


Marik's Diary

by Cardgamesonmotorcycles



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - School, Angst, Crying, Depression, Diary/Journal, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Nicknames, School, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Cardgamesonmotorcycles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik's been writing in a diary, hoping it will help him with his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marik's Diary

Feelings are difficult  
I’ve always thought that.  
That’s why I’ve decided to write this diary.  
I think, maybe, if I write my feelings down it will help me understand them.  
It’s probably a really stupid idea, I mean, if this fell into the wrong hands.  
I don’t even want to think about what could happen...

Entry one.  
I’m lonely.  
All the time. Even when I’m with people. I’m still lonely. And I know, that makes no sense right? You can’t be lonely if you’re surrounded by people. Well, I can, and I am.  
It’s just a sense of not fitting in somehow, like you lack something everyone else has. And I think I’ve worked out what that is. Happiness.  
I haven’t felt truly happy in a long time. Months, maybe even years. Sometimes I look back at old pictures, staring at my smile, trying to work out if it was real or not. Whether my eyes tell the same story my smile does. Sometimes it does. Sometimes my eyes show my smile is as false as my tan.  
It’s only in recent pictures that my smile seems unnatural, too wide, like I’m trying too hard.  
Which I am.  
It’s difficult. Having to pretend to be happy everyday, only being able to drop the act when you’re alone, and finally able to let the tears fall. If they do. Often they don’t, I sob for hours, but not a single tear falls. It’s like even my eyes have an act to keep up.  
It’s not like people haven’t noticed. Some of my more observant friends have noticed somethings wrong. I’ll laugh too hard at a bad joke, say “I’m fine” slightly too fast. And one of them will look up at me, and out will come my smile, automatically. I don’t even have to think about it anymore, the minute I see someone, away goes the look of pain, out comes the smile. Feeling alien on my face. They never question me though, well, except once.  
Yami, someone I never knew would even care. He always notices, those crimson eyes lock with mine, searching to see if the smile reaches them. Hard as you try, you can’t make your eyes look happy if you’re not.  
He asked me once, everyone went for lunch, but I wasn’t hungry. I’m almost never hungry any more. He’d brought his own lunch, so me and him stayed behind at the table. He’d looked up at me as he removed a sandwich from his lunch box. The smile had instantly appeared.

*****

“You okay?” he looked concerned, those crimson eyes met mine, and I had to look away, I felt like he was looking into my soul.  
“I’m fine.” I lied, the smile widening, and laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
He just looked at me, and his eyes narrowed slightly.  
It was silent while he finished his sandwich. I sat there, pushing my nails into the palm of my hand until I drew blood.  
“I don’t believe you. Somethings wrong.”  
My hand jerked unconsciously and my nails dragged over the bleeding skin on my palm. I held in a gasp of pain and let out a small, unbelievable laugh.  
“When did you become a shrink?” I snapped back, my defensiveness only proving his suspictions.  
He glared at me, then sighed, and put down the yoghurt he was about to open.  
“What’s wrong Marik?”  
“Nothing.” I replied, rubbing my hand on my dark school pants, checking the marks. They had stopped bleeding, small rounded scars dotted my palm. This was now almost a daily occurance. “How are you?” I asked, trying desperately to change the subject. Wondering when everyone would be back, and could save me from those peircing eyes.  
“We’re not talking about me.”  
Frig.  
“We’re talking about you. What’s wrong Marik?”  
I ignored him, pretending to search for something in my bag.  
I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up, “Marik, you don’t seem happy.”  
Those eyes again, so full of damn concern. His voice was so pained it was a struggle to kep myself from bursting into tears and telling him everything. How much I hated myself, how I cried myself to sleep, how I wished I was dead, how sometimes I cut myself and just watch the blood trickle down my arm.  
I shrugged his hand off my arm, “I said I’m fine.” I repeated, but I knew he’d seen through my facade.  
He removed his arm, and busied himself opening his yoghurt.  
“You know Marik, if you ever want to talk, I’m only a phone call away.” His tone was sincere.  
“Yeah.” I replied shortly. “Thanks.”  
He sighed once more, and shook his head, before finally dropping the subject and eating his yoghurt, not a moment too soon as everyone returned and squished together round the small table with their lunch trays.  
“Hey, what were you guys talking about?” Yugi asked, as he slid in next to Yami.  
“Nothing Aibou.” Yami smiled, sliding his arm round Yugi’s shoulder and giving him a quick kiss. “Just about dungeron dice monsters, Duke’s launching it in America.”  
As everyone began discussing the new craze, I caught Yami’s eye, and gave him a whispered thankyou, he nodded in acknowledgment, and joined in the conversation, arm still around Yugi.  
I felt a leg brush mine as someone slid down the bench towards me. Bakura.  
“What was that about?” He whispered, lips very near my ear.  
“What?”  
“That, with Yami.”  
“Nothing, we, we were just talking about dungeon dice monsters, like he said.” I stammered.  
He chuckled, warm breath making my neck tingle. I shivered.  
“Bullshit.” he hissed.  
My breath hitched and I couldn’t reply. He saw the panic on my face and leaned away, laughing softly.  
He didn’t bring it up again.

***

I haven’t rung Yami. I don’t think I will. As good as his intentions are, I can’t trust him. I know that sounds bad, but I can’t trust anyone. My sister found out about my cutting and made me see a counsellor, she was nice, but I couldn’t even tell her everything, and it’s her job. So how am I expected to tell someone who knows me? He could tell anyone, he could tell Yugi, and he’s so innocent, I’d feel bad if he worried about me. Which he would. That’s the thing with Yugi, he worries about everyone all the time. I couldn’t do that to him, I wouldn’t want to burden him with my problems. And Yami has that ‘holier than thou’ attitude, he wouldn’t take me seriously if I told him I was depressed because I was lonely. He wouldn’t understand, he’s got Yugi. Everybody has someone now, Joey and Kaiba, Yami and Yugi, Tristan and Duke, Ryou and Malik, Anzu’s dating some boy from her dance classes. I’m the only one alone. And Bakura, obviously. But that’s no surprise, he always says he prefers being alone, not being tied down. Nobody doubts it, he didn’t even have friends til we came along. Everyone was scared of him, he’d snap, throw tables, scream with rage, beat up anyone who got in his way. But once Yami had got in his way, and had refused to move. Bakura, always looking for a fight, challenged Yami. Who took the offer with a small glint in his eye. Much to the shock of Bakura, and the crowd which had gathered around them, Yami won. After the fight, Bakura was the laughing stock of the school, beaten by a guy with half his muscle mass and no fighting experience. Yami had waited a few months before approaching Bakura as he ate dinner in an empty classroom, avoiding the insults thrown his way by students.

*****

The door to the classroom swung open, and Bakura looked up, eyes narrowed in hatred for whoever disturbed him. Whoever it was, they’d be sent on their way soon enough, his eyes glinted wickedly, and he licked his lips, showing sharp canines. His bravado dissapeared from his face, to be replaced with anger. Yami.  
“Bakura.”  
Bakura ignored him, focusing on his drink.  
Yami perched on the desk next to him.  
Bakura drained the dregs and crushed the empty can in his hand as easily as if it had been a paper cup.  
“What do you want.” His voice was bitter.  
“Eat lunch with me and my friends tomorrow.” Yami kept his voice fairly neutral.  
Bakura looked up, the anger gone from his face. “What?” The surprise showed in his voice, which had raised an octave. His eyebrows shot up under his white hair.  
Yami chuckled.  
“You’re trying to trick me aren’t you?” Bakura growled.  
Yami shook his head.  
“No Bakura. My boyfriend felt bad for you, so he made me come here to...” Yami paused, pride still too intact to do Yugi’s bidding.  
“To what?” Bakura demanded. “Spit it out.”  
Yami sighed, Yugi was going to pay for making him do this.  
“To apologise.”  
Bakura’s mouth fell open. That was not what he’d been expecting. He tried to say something witty and cutting, but his mind failed him, he ended up sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.  
Yami laughed, making Bakuras usual glare return.  
“I’m sorry Bakura, I just thought you needed taking down a peg or two. I didn’t realise it would go this far.”  
Bakura growled. “Well it’s a bit late now.”  
Yami sighed, “I know. That’s why I want you to come sit with us.”  
“You mean why your boyfriend wants me to sit with you.” He sneered.  
“Yes. It was Yugis idea, but I feel bad too. Just sit with us tomorrow, if you don’t like it you don’t have to again, okay?”  
Bakura debated this, despite his hate for Yami, his hatred of being alone and laughed at was worse.  
“Okay.” he said. “Just tomorrow though yeah?”  
Yami nodded, before sweeping out of the room, a smirk on his lips.  
He shut the door again, and turned to face an excited boy with spiky black, purple and blonde hair.  
“Did he say yes?” The boy was practically bouncing with excitement.  
Yami smiled, “Yes Yugi, he said yes.”  
Yugi wrapped his arms around his boyfriends neck and gave him a quick, but well deserved kiss. Yami groaned as Yugi grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor, “Come on, we have to tell everyone else!”  
“Oh Gods,” Yami gasped, stopping, “You didn’t tell them?!”  
Yugi giggled, “Do you really think they’d have agreed?”  
Yami stared at Yugi incredulously, then laughed too.  
They walked off down the corridor hand in hand, “Let’s break the news together.”

***

So Bakura came to sit with us. And that one terrifying day turned into an awkward week, turned into a pleasantly surprising month, and now it had been nearly a year since he became our friend. Everyone knew he liked his own space. And a girlfriend (or boyfriend, it didn’t matter to Bakura) would just get in his way. It’d take a special kind of person too, while Bakura may now be friendler than ever, he has his bad days. He still snaps, and makes cruel comments. He’s made Yugi cry before now. But then, Yugi’s always been quite delicate, so that’s not difficult. He’s not always by himself though, he lives alone, but often goes out to bars and doesn’t return home til the next morning, looking rough and wearing the same clothes from the night before. He says these one night stands keep him satisfied, but I’ve noticed him glance at Yami and Yugi before with something like envy in his eyes. He’d never admit it of course, he still has his pride, and is stubborn as a mule, but I think he does want someone. I’ve thought about asking him about it before, but he’s very intimidating when he wants to be, and I don’t want to risk him snapping.  
I remember the last time he snapped. All because I’d called him ‘fluffy.’

***

“Hey.” I said, smiling as I sat at the table opposite Bakura.  
“Hi!” Anzu and Yugi chimed, Bakura grunted and carried on attacking his steak.  
“You okay ‘Kura?” I asked.  
His head jerked up, juices from the steak running down his chin. “Yeah..”  
He lowered his head again, taking another bite of steak. Then looked up, “Wait, what did you just call me?” His voice turning into the low hiss that always terrified me.  
“Kura..” I gulped.  
“Kura?” He repeated, “Why the hell did you call me that Ishtar?”  
I hated when he called me by my last name, I don’t know why, but it always sounds particularly threatening.  
I shrugged, trying to act cool. “It was either that or fluffy.” My eyes widened as I realised what I’d said.  
Shit.  
Bakuras full attention was on me now, his steak disgarded on his plate.  
“What.” He growled.  
Fuck.  
“Ishtar. What did you just call me?” His voice was dangerously low, his eyes glittered with rage.  
“F-Fluffy..” I muttered, avoiding his eyes.  
The next thing I knew I was lying on the grass with him straddling me, one hand round my neck, the other on my chest, pinning me to the ground.  
“Fluffy?” He hissed.  
My eyes bulged, my hands scrabbled at his hands, trying to get him off me.  
“Fluffy?” His voice was getting louder, his face twisted into a vengeful mask. He moved his mouth down to my ear, “Why fluffy, Ishtar?” he whispered, loosening his hold on my neck slightly so I could answer.  
“Your hair.” I managed to croak, “It’s fluffy.”  
I raised a hand to touch it, but I didn’t even get near before he lifted me up then slammed me into a nearby tree, holding me up against the trunk by my throat. My feet weren’t touching the ground, and kicked pathetically.  
I stared down at him. Terrified. I knew full well he was strong enough to kill me with a quick twist of my neck.  
“Bak-“ I began, but he tightened his hand round my throat, cutting off my air supply.  
His face was contorted into an expression of pure hate, his eyes bulging out of the sockets, breathing heavily, visibly shaking.  
“Bakura!” Someone called, voice scared. I couldn’t see who. Yugi or Anzu probably, they knew full well not to get in his way, and no-one was here who could help me.  
He seemed to have this thought at the same time as me, and leant in close to my face, I turned away from him, flattening myself into the tree. He slammed me into the trunk again, and I heard my back crack. I gasped in pain, using up some of the precious air in my straining lungs.  
“No Yami here to save you now Ishtar.” He looked insane, he had properly snapped this time. I could feel his hot breath on my face, smell the steak.  
“So, tell me Ishtar, what’s my name?”  
I tried to speak, but only croaks came out.  
He released me, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping in mouthfuls of the sweet air. I had about a minute to recover before a kick to my stomach had me crying out in pain, I instincively curled into a ball, covering my head with my hands.  
He towered over me, blocking out the sun.  
“I said, what’s my name.” His tone still dangerous, but not as insane as before.  
“Bak-“ A coughing fit overtook me, and I shook as the coughs racked my body.  
I heard Bakura roar with anger, and he aimed brutal kicks at my legs, my hands, my spine.  
“BAKURA!” I heard a voice scream from behind me, and peeked out between my fingers to see Yugi, standing behind Bakura. “Stop!” Yugi grabbed Bakuras arm, but Bakura threw him roughly to the ground, before standing over me again.  
He reached down and I flinched away, he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet by it, ignoring my whimpers of pain.  
“I SAID, WHAT’S MY NAME!!” he screamed in my face.  
“Bakura!” I cried, hot tears stinging my cheeks. “Your name’s Bakura.”  
“And what are you never to call me again?” He hissed.  
“Fluffy.” I moaned.  
“And.” He prompted, teeth clenched.  
“Kura.” I whimpered.  
He released my hair and lowered me to the ground, almost gently.  
“Good boy Marik.” He said, reaching towards me. I backed away, finding myself blocked by the tree. He continued before softly wiping my tears away. He smiled, then stood and wandered inside, as if nothing had happened.  
I sat at the base of the tree, shaking, not because of the beating, but because of the strange rush that had flowed through me as he had dried my tears. Yugi and Anzu waited til he was out of sight, before rushing over to me.

***

I had to take two weeks off school after that. Two broken ribs, a black eye, a bust lip, three cuts that needed stitching, and a severely bruised throat. When Yami found out what had happened he rang me, apologising profusely for not being there, and promised me he’d “kill that son of a bitch.” I told him that would only make things worse, but he didn’t seem too sure. I told him to just leave it. Yugi dropped by to see me too, brought me some chocolates and apologised for not being able to help. He had bruising from where Bakura had thrown him to the floor, but aside from that he was his usual upbeat self. He told me Bakura hadn’t been in school since it happened. That came as no surprise, he often truanted. To be honest, it was amazing we’d managed to be friends with him this long. He’d punched people before, but never given a full beating like he had to me. And he would never normally have snapped over something so trivial.  
Sometimes I wonder why he dried my tears. I think maybe he realised he’d gone too far, but even Bakuras not that stupid. He knows full well he overreacted. That was clear when I was woken at 3am two days after I’d returned to school, to find him sat on the roof beneath my bedroom window, tapping at the glass to get my attention. I opened the window to tell him to go fuck himself, but he launched himself through it before I could begin. He’d been drinking. That much was clear from his breath. How he’d managed to climb onto the roof I had no idea. He sat down on my bed, looking around my room. He’d never been to my house before, and seemed curious.

***

“Bakura?”  
He ignored me, his eyes roaming round my room, looking at everything but me.  
“Bakura!” I shouted, but not too loudly, I didn’t want to wake my sister.  
“Yeah?” He said, finally looking at me.  
He was seriously drunk, he didn’t seem to find the current situation at all odd.  
But as I moved nearer to him, into the pool of light from my lamp, his eyes (to my horror) filled with tears.  
“Bakura?” I asked, even more uncertain now. “What’s wrong?”  
I moved to sit beside him on the bed, but kept some distance between us, just in case.  
“I’ve ruined everything!” he said, and the tears began to fall.  
This could take a while. I glanced at my clock, 3:12AM. Perfect.  
I was distracted from my annoyance by Bakura grabbing me by the waist and pulling me into a rather awkward hug. He sobbed into my chest, and I nervously placed my hands on his back, rubbing soothingly.  
“I’m sure you haven’t ruined everything Bakura.” I reassured.  
“I have.” He slurred, releasing me and breathing alcohol fumes into my face.  
Eugh.  
“I’ve ruined school, I’ve lost all my friends. And I’ve ruined you.”  
I blinked, my head suddenly filling with inapropriate images. I shook my head to clear them.  
“How have you ruined me?” I blushed slightly at this.  
“I’ve ruined your face.” He sobbed, reaching a hand up to hover over the stiches that held the gash on my cheek together. “Your beautiful face.”  
His sobbing worsened, his body shaking.  
“Your beautiful face, and I’ve destroyed it. And it’s not as beautiful anymore and It’s all my fault!” He grew slowly more hysterical as he spoke, until I felt he’d begin screaming.  
I was seriously confused now. He thought I was beautiful?  
“I’m so sorry Marik!” He sobbed, leaning into my chest again. “I’m such a bastard.”  
I chuckled slightly at this, finally, he’d realised.  
“I bet you hate me.” He said, his voice sad now. “I hate me.”  
I felt my heart fall at this, and felt strangely sorry for him.  
“I don’t hate you.” I said, pulling him into a proper hug.  
“Why?” He sniffed, leaning into my hold.  
That got me. I didn’t know why. I wasn’t even angry with him.I knew I should be, he’d beaten the crap outta me and left me to bleed.  
But.. I still don’t hate him.  
“I don’t know Bakura.” I sighed, holding him closer, smelling his hair.  
His fluffy hair.  
His.. soft, fluffy hair.  
Wait, what the hell was I doing?  
I pulled back out of the hug. And just looked at him. Properly looked at him. His fluffy white hair sticking out of his scalp almost like bat wings. Large rust brown eyes, outlined in black kohl. Sharp, angular cheekbones and a pointed chin.  
“Marik?” Bakura asked, looking up at me.  
I ignored him. Glancing down at the rest of him, he was wearing his usual fitted blue and white t-shirt, which showed the outline of his toned chest. Long black jacket on top, collar sticking up on either side of his face, making him look tough. His necklace hung on a brown leather chain, a golden triangle inset with an egyptian eye, surrounded by a circle of the same gold, and with five golden points dangling underneath.  
I swallowed.  
He was hot. How had I never noticed before?  
“Marik?”  
Bakuras voice snapped me back to reality. His eyes searching my face, confusion flashed through his eyes. Then it faded, to be replaced by his trademark smirk.  
“Were you just checking me out?”  
“What?!” I blurted, rather too fast, “No!”  
He laughed, “You so were Ishtar!”  
“I was not.” I reiterated.  
I tensed as he leant towards me, tucking my hair behind my ear.  
“I don’t believe you.” He hissed into my ear, breath, once again tickling my neck. But this time the danger in his voice didn’t scare me. I felt a hot blush flood my face as he kissed the soft skin below my ear, slowly working his way down my jaw. He paused when he reached my chin. Eyes searching mine. The lust in his eyes was overpowering, and I can only assume my eyes matched his.  
“You sure you wanna do this Ishtar?” he purred, kissing down my neck.  
I didn’t trust myself to answer, in case a moan slipped out instead.  
“Mmm-hmm.” I nodded.  
He chuckled, leaning into my ear again, “Loosen up Ishtar, or this won’t be nearly as fun.”  
He walked his hand my chest, stopping when he reached my neck, curling his hand around and pulling me closer to him.  
I swear I could hear my heart beating.  
I could feel the heat coming off his body, smell the alcohol on his breath, smell his scent.  
His lips met mine, brushing softly at first, but as I responded to the kiss he deepened it. Forcing his tongue into my mouth and battling mine for dominance, the taste of vodka heavy on his lips. He moved closer to me, arms around my waist, in my hair, on my neck. He gently pushed me backwards so I was lying on the bed, him hovering above me. He broke the kiss when we both began to run out of air. I watched him as he knelt over me, damp lips slightly parted as he breathed, eyes crimson with lust. He was beautiful.  
He lent down again to give me another gentle kiss, carefully caressing my face, avoiding the healing cut he had placed there just a couple of weeks ago. I smiled up at him as he pulled away, though my face fell as he turned to look at the clock behind us.  
“It’s pretty late Marik.”  
I nodded slowly, letting out a small sigh. Then I had an idea. A stupid, crazy, wonderful idea.  
“You could stay?” Frig. I’d only meant to think it. I lay there under him, worried he’d get the wrong idea, reveal he’d been teasing me all this time. Something.  
Instead, his smile widened and he gave me a quick peck on the lips.  
“Sounds good to me Ishtar.”  
I rolled my eyes at the use of my last name, but this time it was said with affection, rather than disdain. I rather liked it. I smiled and rolled out from under him, climbing into bed. A moment later he joined me, arms snaking around my waist, pulling me close to his warm chest. I let out a short gasp of pain as he squeezed my damaged ribs too hard, he immediatley loosened his grip, fingers stroking across the sore area gently.  
“Marik?”  
“Yeah Kura?”  
“I’m sorry.”  
I smiled, and turned to give him a lingering kiss.  
“I forgive you.”


End file.
